


for the world is hollow and I have touched the sky

by teeterss



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Fix-It, M/M, Post-Dark Side Of Dimensions, Sad Boy Kaiba, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-17 08:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14829165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teeterss/pseuds/teeterss
Summary: Seto was in America when he had the first dream.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My personal preference and mindset while writing this is the manga and DSOD are the only canon but Kaiba was also present for the World of Memories arc like in the anime. It doesn't alter anything too much but just a note that these characters are based of the Japanese incarnations only. Enjoy :)

The light of the sun was the first thing Seto was conscious of. It was a blinding glare that consumed his vision until everything was just whiteness. He was certain it was sunlight despite feeling no heat from it warming his skin. In fact, he couldn’t feel his body at all.

Ignorance was never something Seto could tolerate, so he willed himself to push through the light, to force it’s brilliance to disperse, until he could make out anything beyond it.

It happened like a camera flash. As soon as he willed it, the overwhelming light was redacted, withdrawn in an instant to dwell contained in the sun above him. Now Seto could see an endless desert stretching out before him into a limitless horizon. There was nothing but sand, no point to focus on, no goal to reach for in the barren landscape. Yet deep in his formless chest, Seto felt a sharp pang of longing for something unknowable here. 

He took a step forwards on legs he wasn’t sure he owned and felt the dip of the sand shifting under him. The sand felt more real to him than his own body, his own mind. He took another step, then another, walking towards nothing in particular, just another pace closer to the never ending horizon and a chance to quench the hopeless longing that ached inside him.

The next step he took landed on sand that gave way under his feet and his breath caught in a chest that might not be real as the world disappeared from beneath him.

Consciousness was more of a certainty this time. He opened his eyes slowly to a dim room that wasn’t his own back in Domino City but held enough familiarity to be of comfort. With consciousness came the dull pain that had been a constant in the last months. He gritted his teeth against it and stretched an arm out to feel the solidness of the mattress under him, the pleasant starchiness of the sheets, the coolness of the untouched space of bed beside him. He let the feel of it, the solid unquestionable facts of reality, ground him.

He fumbled for the painkillers on his bedside and ignoring the recommended dosage, he dried swallowed a few as he tried to chase the last remnants of recollection of the dream. He remembered the feeling, the pang of longing flaring once again in his chest, but nothing of the content. 

Scolding himself for even caring about the meaningless ramblings of his subconscious, he rolled over and quickly slipped back into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke to his alarm hours later, any trace of sand and a cold sun were gone from his mind.

*

The dull clang of the weight being dropped abruptly back into it’s rack echoed around the almost deserted gym. Seto slumped almost as quickly down onto a nearby bench, arms trembling, his chest heaving. His body felt strained in a way that would have almost been foreign last year, now it seemed it was it’s usual state.

“That was good. You managed ten more than last time,” his trainer said, his californian twang slowed even more with his bored tone.

“You simply need to correct me when I’m doing something wrong, any further comments are redundant,” Seto said through gritted teeth as he rolled his shoulder to loosen the post-exercise stiffness. The pain was bad but it had been worse, much worse.

The man nodded but said nothing else. This was why he had last so long in Seto’s employ; he was good at shutting up.

Seto hated his physical therapy. The continual training of the mind and body was something he believed in greatly - there were always ways to improve, to surpass existing perceptions of greatness. It was a belief that had kept him at the top of his game for so long, but there was humiliation that came with needing to return to such basic exercises after having exceeded them long ago. 

It had been years since he had even required a tutor or guidance of any kind, in both physical and mental areas. He had outgrown all academic peers at the age of fourteen and mastered his prefered form of Judo at sixteen. His personal growth since he had taken over as CEO of Kaiba-corp had, for the most part, been self-sufficient. It was a point of pride, something else to hold over the corpse of his long dead stepfather.

Now it was like he was a child once again, relying on others to teach him how to return to past, near-unrivalled, excellence.

“We’ll just do your cool down now then you can get back to work,” the trainer said when Seto finally stood again. “You’ll be pleased to know that after today’s performance, I think you’ll only need a few more sessions before I can sign you off.”

“Good,” Seto said, tone clipped and short. Though his english was excellent, he didn’t particularly enjoy speaking it. 

“I’ll set you up with some stretches for you to do on your own. You’ll have do to them a few times a day, but they’ll be manageable enough to do them at your desk if you want.” Seto grimaced at the idea but nodded. 

“Your progress has been remarkable, if you don’t mind me saying, Mr Kaiba,” the man continued, growing slightly more bold. “To have that arm nearly completely functional again in this time is very impressive.”

“Your comments are, once again, unnecessary,” Seto snapped. The man inclined his head slightly in apology, expression barely changing from it’s usual apathetic coolness, before quickly and seamlessly transitioning the subject into Seto’s cool down stretches.

Later, when Seto was alone in his shower, he allowed himself a small smile. It had been a long, hard road of recovery but he could see the end of it now. It was almost over. 

He tipped his head back to allow the hot water to rinse through hair and down his back, taking a rare moment to just enjoy the pleasant sensation. The bright glare of the bathroom light above him left a nagging sensation in his gut, like there was something he was forgetting. He ignored it and turned the heat of the shower up several degrees.

*

The next time he dreamt of the desert, he felt more in control of himself. The desert was the same, just as impossibly large as it had been the last time, almost as though the sun, as bright as it was, couldn’t possibly stretch it’s rays far enough to cover it all.

The longing was still present in Seto’s chest. It called to him to start moving towards the horizon, but he refused to be swayed by it. This was his dream and his alone to control. 

With the hand he now knew he possessed, he reached down to touch the sand below him. It felt gritty and dry, just as any real sand would. Scooping up a handful, he watched it trickle through his fingers then get caught up in a wind he was only just aware of. 

Now that he was conscious of the wind, he couldn’t imagine how it had passed his notice before. It ruffled his hair and pulled at his clothes, it’s sharp coolness on his skin feeling as real as the sand. 

Time then seemed to accelerate around him and what was once a gentle breeze was now a howling gale, whipping up the sand around him into impenetrable clouds of grit. He raised his hand to protect his face, suddenly terrified of being consumed by it. The harsh sting of it beating against his skin was the last thing he was aware of before he was opening his eyes in his bedroom.

He didn’t have the luxury of forgetting the dream this time. The whistle of the wind was still ringing in his ears in the silent, dark bedroom.

 

*

Sunshine was what he needed, that was what his doctors hadn’t tired of telling him when he lay cornered in his sickbed. Sunshine and relaxation, a break from the city and Seto’s enormous workload. Clearly those were unacceptable options but Seto had eventually agreed on leaving Japan for a while to instead focus on the American branch of KaibaCorp that was still only just getting off the ground. It was probably for the best to not to be in Domino when he was vulnerable anyway.

The perpetual Californian sunshine had always bothered him, especially as he disliked getting a tan, but now the glare of the morning sun was an even greater irritant. 

He glared right back at it from his office window, absently rubbing at his palm, still expecting to feel the grit of sand there. He’d dreamt of the same barren desert every night for the last two weeks and Seto didn’t want to admit how much it was bothering him. Logically, there was only one reason why he would think of such a place and he had been trying very hard to put that subject far from his mind.

“We could… postpone this meeting if you wish, Kaiba-sama?” Isono said from the desk in front of him, cutting through his thoughts.

“No, I heard what you said,” Seto said, turning back to face the projection. Isono had remained in Japan on Seto’s insistence despite his numerous polite requests against it. There were far too many who would like to see his hold on Domino slip and too few he could trust implicitly to report back in his absence. “Continue as planned, I shall be returning to Domino in the coming weeks so it won’t be an issue.”

“But- but it was my understanding that you were to remain in America until September at the latest.” Seto watched him fumble around for his planner, looking even more panicked than usual. “It is in the schedule-”

“The schedule has changed,” Seto cut in coolly. “My health will not be an issue for much longer and Domino has run without my guidance for too long as it is. Make the preparations for my return.”

“Excuse my asking, but are you sure that is wise? Has- has Mokuba-sama been informed of these arrangements?”

“Mokuba is looking forward to returning home as much as I am,” Seto snapped, his already thin patience at its end. “Do not presume to know him better than I. That shall be all for today.” Seto ended the call with a swipe of his hand, fully aware there had been more to discuss but unable to care. 

The persistent ache in his forearm flared and he clenched his fist against the pain until it had passed. His pain meds winked at him from where they sat on his desk but he ignored them. It was possible that his return was premature but he was through with being ruled by anything other than his own will.

His gaze was drawn once again to the sun streaming in through the window and his palms itched. From the soaring heights of the KaibaCorp tower, he could just make out the sealine in the distance. Would the sand down there feel the same as in his dream, or the same as it had felt the last time he had stood on desert plains all those months ago? Would going down there and feeling it quench the insatiable irritance left by it on his skin? 

He turned away from the window, cursing himself for chasing yet another unattainable dream.

*

The desert wasn’t empty this time. Seto stood on the outskirts of a town, made up of buildings crafted from stone almost the same colour as the landscape. Like the sand below him, the structures felt like the very pillars of his reality, unshaking and solid. Unspeakable excitement flared in Seto at this new development of his so far stagnant dreams. His legs felt powerful under him as they drove him forwards through the sand and into the village, the sun hot on his neck.

There was something unsettling about the town. Although there were signs of life everywhere - clothes on washing lines above him that fluttered in a light breeze, shabby stalls with fresh produce on display, carts stacked with off-white cloth ready for a tailor - there wasn’t as single other person here. Seto pushed the thought from his mind because in the distance he could see it. The twin needle pillars, so bright in the sun they looked golden, the stoic statues of long dead men who were giants to the village they watched over, the soaring walls of a fortress almost as tall as the looming hills that surrounded it. The palace of kings.

The longing that had been a constant ache in his chest through every dream flared to the point of pain at the sight of it. For months now he hadn’t allowed himself to think of this place, had shut his mind off from all thoughts that would stray back to it. Too much damage had been done once to get him here. It was no longer a price he was willing to pay.

But now as he stood at the gates once again, all thoughts of the promise he’d made to himself to leave the past alone vanished. There was nothing in this world or the next he wanted more than to enter this place and to once again see the face of who held dominion inside it’s walls.

That was, of course, when Seto woke up.

 

*

Clarity for the future had always come easy to Seto. He always knew what his goals were, how to aim for them and how far he needed to push himself to achieve them. There was always a plan in the pipeline, always tasks that must be completed to reach his aspirations, and what grand aspirations they were.

At age ten he knew how he would gain control of the most powerful corporation in Japan. At fifteen he created revolutionary solid vision technology to rival visions created by an ancient magic. At age eighteen he performed an act no man had done before and transport a living being to the netherworld. There had always been a goal at the end of every action, something to strive for, and never had there been a limit to what he could achieve if he wanted it badly enough.

Now at age nineteen, a man who had conquered the very plain of existence and yet returned empty handed, what he wanted seemed far less certain.

Seto stood in his bathroom, freshly showered and still naked, staring at himself in the mirror. The hours of the day had run over into the next, and yet the itch of indecisiveness kept him wide awake. Though he would openly admit he tended to stray into vanity, he rarely just took the time to look at himself like this. He seemed to have aged without him noticing. He’d grown into his face a little more so everything looked more proportionate, and his long limbs finally were in keeping with the rest of him now he had filled out a little more. It was funny the things that passed you by when you were busy running the world. 

His eyes followed the path of the scar that started at his right shoulder and worked its way down his forearm. It was just a sliver of silver now after so much treatment, more a reminder than a blemish. Almost healed just like the rest of Seto.

For a while, regaining his health so that he could return to Japan as the same strong force of nature he had been when he first left had been the only goal. Now that that deadline was closing in on him, it left what lay beyond it wide open. An unlimited future was what he had always wanted and yet now the possibilities seemed terrifying rather than liberating. 

The path that had seemed so certain to him suddenly seemed far less clear. For a time, he was so sure he had a partner, an equal he would share the journey with, that they would walk side by side until their road of battle came to an end. But life had other plans and now he would walk it alone. He had done his best to come to terms with that and, for awhile, had succeed. For months he had lived solely in the present, the door on the past tightly shut behind him.

But now a new temptation had arisen. The path that had seemed dead now had a glimmer of light at the end of it.

Seto left the bathroom with a guilty excitement at the prospect of sleeping and returning to his dreams.

*

There was no sand nor sun this time. To say the room he found himself in was grand would be a grave disservice. It was, after all, the room to throne a king. A crowd of hundreds could have comfortably fit in these walls and yet it was all in service to one man.

It was with bated breath that Seto turned his eyes up to the seat in pride of place the room, but a part of him already knew he would find it empty. There was no sense of life in this room, just like the town, but unlike it, this place didn’t feel as unsettling. Instead, an overwhelming sense of peace emanated from it. It was the calm one felt in a church, or a graveyard. 

The disappointment was crushing, but it didn’t deter him. The longing was still tight in his chest, he knew what he sought wasn’t in this room. 

Taking long strides up the steps, he stood right before the throne and let his fingers trail over the smooth stone of the arm, just to know that it was real. It was cold to the touch, as though no one had sat there for a long while. He moved past it, to the small chamber that lay behind the large hall, following his instincts more than any sense of direction. He kept moving until Seto saw some signs of natural light and the hint of a breeze coming from the end of corridor. He followed it, his pulse quickening. 

The passage opened out onto a room with a balcony. Long, sheer white curtains hung over it’s open, doorless frame. They were caught on the breeze, flowing into the room like a bride’s veil and almost obscured the view beyond them completely.

Seto moved closer, each of his footfalls sounding obscenely loud in the silence. Through the haze of the cutrians and the brightness of the sun, he could make out a figure on the veranda. They stood with their back to him, looking out at the view, the ripple of their cape moving in tandem to the drapes. The ache in Seto’s chest swelled to such a point he felt like he might die from it.

Almost as if sensing his presence, the sheets of fabric parted for him, allowing Seto to clearly see the man who stood silhouetted before him. It was a redundant act, Seto would have known the man if he were blind. 

The figure turned slightly as they heard Seto approach and it stopped him dead in his tracks. A shuddery breath caught in Seto’s chest. He then spoke the name he’d refused to say for nearly nine months.

“Atem.”

*

_“I can’t say that your arrival was much of a surprise.” Atem turned to look at Seto from where he’d been watching his fingertips make ripples across the surface of the courtyard’s small pool. He looked resplendent, adorned in golden sunlight that acted as yet another crown around him. “In fact, I’m merely shocked it took you as long as it did.” A sly, teasing smile played on his lips and Seto gave a small huff of annoyance to hide his own._

_“I would have been here earlier if you hadn’t gone to the one place it seemed impossible to get to.”_

_“But not impossible for you.” At that Seto couldn’t hold back his smile. He had missed this like a drowning man missed breathing. The back and forth, the banter that was as every bit the duel as the cards in their hands. Despite how much had changed, this had remained exactly the same._

_The palace courtyard was serenely peaceful, with the quiet lapping of the water from the small pool they sat beside, the distant call of bird song somewhere in the trees above them, Atem happy, real and alive._

_Or it would have been if every second Seto continued to spend in this realm wasn’t a constant, tremendous strain. If the toll of even being here wasn’t causing the duel system to scorch his skin like a brand where it rested on his arm, and the Quantum Cube‘s energy to eat away at his form like errotion. Their duel had taken a lot out of him and now it felt like he was running on fumes alone._

_“How much did you see before this?” Seto asked, pushing the pain to the back of his mind._

_“Enough.”_

_“You could at least answer me properly for the amount of effort it took for me to get here.” Atem laughed, soft and genuine. Seto had never heard him laugh before, not with his own voice. Now it was just another thing to grieve._

_“I suppose I do owe you that. I started paying attention when that child of prana took Jounouchi.” He paused, glancing at Seto. “But I suspect that’s not what you want to hear. In truth, I don’t so much as see your world from here but sense you. I could feel when you were in danger and knew when to act, other than that, I am almost blind to you all. It can be quite frustrating but it is something at least.” Seto nodded, not knowing how to feel._

_“We must seem so insignificant to you from here.”_

_“We both know you could never be anything but significant, Kaiba. Especially to me.” Atem’s tone was as light as before but Seto could feel the sincerity underlining his words. It was pitiful that he felt so grateful at hearing them, to know without a doubt that the bond he believed he shared with Atem was felt by the other man too._

_“If you are able to return when you please, why do you stay here?” Atem huffed another laugh and lent back on his hands to look to the heavens above them, more carefree and relaxed than Seto had ever seen him in his vessel._

_“Though I do enjoy your ability to make the most complex matters seem extremely simple, I’m afraid it doesn’t apply here.”_

_“Then you are… at peace here. You wish to stay.” It wasn’t phrased as a question but the plea was there for Atem to deny it._

_“I am and I do,” Atem replied, regret tinging his voice. “Though I don’t expect you to understand, you who would never limit yourself to one reality to exist.” The barb was teasing but Seto didn’t take the bait._

_“I do understand, I am not without empathy. I am simply... disappointed. There aren’t many that I consider an opponent worthy of my time.”_

_“Then I am truly sorry, Kaiba, it was never my intention to hurt you in any way.”_

_“You have nothing to apologize for,” Seto snapped, blunt and harsh but with little bite. The reality that this was the last time he would be in this man’s presence was finally, finally catching up to him. “My feelings in the matter are irrelevant. You must act as you alone seem fit.”_

_“But I still want to.” Atem’s voice as level and unwavering as his resolve had always been and now it was almost sickeningly kind. “And I thank you for coming here. It was one of my deepest regrets that I left our story unfinished. Having you here now… it means more to me than I can say. I see the toll it has taken on you to get here, and continues to take from you. I hope that after this, you too can find the peace that you deserve.”_

_“Well, I couldn’t let it lie with you having the finally word, could I?” Seto said with a forced smirk on his lips, as he swallowed down all the foreign emotions that were rising in him._

_“I would have been disappointed if you had,” Atem laughed and it was then that Seto knew that his time in this realm had come to its end. His vision was darkening in the corners and the effort it took to maintain his form was growing almost too much to bare. Atem’s smile turned a little sad, as if he too knew it was time._

_“Unlike me, you do not belong here.” He covered Seto’s hand with his own where it rested between them. Seto flinched and almost pulled away instinctively, but forced himself to allow it. It was worth the enormous strain of keeping his hand present just to feel Atem one last time. “Return home and continue to be the most remarkable person I have ever met. I know you have many more miracles to deliver the world before your time there is through.”_

_Seto turned his hand in Atem’s hold to grasp it tightly for a very brief moment before releasing it. He stared into Atem’s face, trying to memorise every detail of it, every difference between him and the vessel he’d always thought of as him. There were so many things he wished to tell him. So many things left unsaid that had plagued him relentlessly these last six months. Now as he looked at Atem, knowing that this was his last chance, he found speaking them to be impossible._

_“You are the only duelist that I have ever seen as my equal,” he said in lieu of them. It didn’t seem enough, not nearly enough to encompass everything Seto felt, everything that Atem had been to him, but it would have to be. It seemed that Atem understood, as he smiled at him as warm as the sun._

_“Be well, my friend.”_

_“And you, Atem.”_

_It was only then Seto could finally let go._

*

_The station was in chaos. Every view screen flashed critical, the read out of a heart rate monitor was flatlining. A thrum of voices all speaking over each other filled the room. Over it all, the sound of a child crying could just about be heard._

_A great whooshing noise cut through the rabble as a pod began to materialise in a shower of gold in the centre of the room. The cluster of scientists were silenced of a brief moment, struck dumb in awe at the sight of it solidifying before them, before they rushed into action._

_The pod was prised open crudely with a crowbar, the automated mechanism of it long past the point of usability, and the smell of burning flesh filled the room. A body was pulled from it, limp and lifeless. The panicked chatter reached its peak as it was rushed from the room on a stretcher, the rest of the crowd following close behind. The sound of the child’s sobs left a lingering echo around the now empty room._

_Seven minutes later, Seto Kaiba’s heart was restarted and began beating in this world once more._

*

Seto received no reply from the figure. Atem looked at him unreadably, to the point where Seto wasn’t even sure if he knew he was there at all.

“Atem,” Seto repeated, his voice sounding uncharacteristically reedy and strained. “It’s Kaiba.”

Atem’s eyes then focused on him as though only just seeing him for the first time. Seto heart clenched in his chest and he waited. And waited.

Again, he received no reply, no other indication he’d been acknowledged by the man at all.

“Is this real?” Seto persisted. “Atem, are you really here? Has all this been you trying to reach me? To tell me something? Are you trying to come back?” He took a step forwards, raising a hand hesitantly, almost not daring to hope. “Tell me and I’ll help you!”

Still Atem remained unresponsive. If Seto didn’t see the motion of his hair moving with the breeze, he could have mistaken him for just another carved statue of a dead king. 

“You’re not real, are you,” Seto said, tone becoming flat and cold. His hand dropped back to his side. “None of this is real, it’s never been.”

Atem was as silent as the grave he had so eagerly crawled back into. The drapes that adorned the doorway continued to dance around him on the breeze, framing him like a painting. He may as well have been one.

Of course Atem wasn't really appearing to him in his dreams. It was a ludicrous idea. Atem didn’t want to come back. He was never coming back. 

Seto was suddenly, irrationally, furious. It filled him completely, consuming him, taking the place of where hope had been just seconds before. 

“I hate you,” he spat venomously, each word dripping with spite. “I hate you! Is it not enough you plagued me when I was awake, now you must steal into my dreams too? If you wish to be dead, then just stay dead!” He screamed the last words so loudly they echoed out the room.

“You’re nothing more than memories to me now. You’re worthless, less than worthless, you’re nothing. I don’t need you, I never did.” Now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop. The anger and resentment that he had tried to push down and bury were pouring out of him like a dam rupturing. He took a step forwards, fists clenched so tight they were trembling. Atem didn’t even blink. “All you ever did was make me weak, you made me nearly kill myself just to get to you again. I nearly died! And for what? For you to tell me you’d rather to stay dead than return? That you wouldn’t even try to come back? The Yugi I knew would never have given up so easily, would never go down without so much as a fight. You must truly be dead to have so little life left in you.”

The room was deathly silent as he stopped to take in several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling shakily. Atem was watching him, eyes unwavering, expression utterly blank. Seto felt like screaming again but he had no energy left in him. He turned away from the phantom, disgusted.

“I’m glad you won’t come back. I wouldn’t want you even if you did.”


	2. Chapter 2

It had been over a week since Seto had slept naturally. He’d staved off natural sleep on a bad cocktail of coffee, pep pills and sleeping tablets. It was a strategy he’d developed when first transitioning KaibaCorp from a weapons manufacturer to a gaming company in the early years when he needed to prove to not only the board, but the entire world that he was more than capable of running a company at 15. Working on three hours artificial sleep was effective for time keeping, but had the troublesome side effects of nearly killing you. 

But it was worth it. He also hadn’t drempt in over a week. 

Tonight Seto arrived back at their rented home at nine thirty, relatively early for him, but he had been at work since four. 

Pausing only to call up to Mokuba, he made his way through the house straight to the kitchen. The room was modern, minimal and sleek, with a glass external wall that let the lights from the city below illuminate the room. It was so different from the old fashioned, fussy decor that ran throughout Kaiba Manor that Seto found this house far more comforting somehow, even if it wasn’t his own. 

In the fridge he found the plate left for him to reheat by their personal chef from what they’d prepared earlier for Mokuba’s dinner. They’d always insisted they could stay later to make him something fresh, but Seto prefered this set up. This way meant less human interaction. 

Mokuba bounded into the room just as the microwave pinged. “Nii-sama, guess what? We won the match! I even scored the last goal!”

“Well done, Mokuba,” Seto said with as much enthusiasm that his exhausted body could muster. “This is your third consecutive victory, correct?”

“Yeah! If we win next week’s game, we’ll be in the quarter finals! Will you come watch me play?”

“If I can, Mokuba. It’s a very busy period at the moment. Work may take precedent, but I will try.” Mokuba nodded, hiding his disappointment with an ease that came from a great deal of practice, and took a seat opposite Seto at the kitchen’s island.

“What is it today?” Seto asked, holding out his hand expectantly. 

“Trigonometry and biology,” Mokuba said, handing him several textbooks. “Piece of cake.”

Seto smirked proudly as he flipped through the pages of the first book to begin his marking. When Mokuba had asked to go to a private school when they came to America instead of getting involved with it’s branch of KaibaCorp, Seto hadn’t thought there was any point. Mokuba was already fiercely intelligent and was obviously guaranteed his lifelong position as VP at KaibaCorp, which made any more studying redundant. But he’d agreed because it was what Mokuba wanted and he certainly deserved that after what Seto had just put him through over the last year. 

Now, Seto was glad he’d agreed because it was this time, when he would sit in the kitchen in his brother’s company at the end of the day, checking over his homework as he ate his dinner, that were some of the few moments he felt genuinely peaceful. There was something calming about going over simple math equations with an actual pen and paper rather than working off a screen, listening to Mokuba’s steady breathing and occasional comments as he played on whatever game console had his attention that week.

“All correct as usual,” Seto said after a while, handing back the books. “Hardly very simulating for you I’d imagine. Thankfully when we return to Domino you can return to problems more your caliber at KaibaCorp.” Mokuba laughed but Seto noted it lacked his usual genuine enthusiasm and that he avoided Seto’s eye. “Everything is… it’s alright with you, isn’t it?” he asked rather stiffly. “You’re doing okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course, nii-sama.” Mokuba looked at him curiously, which was understandable. The question had sounded odd coming from Seto.

“I want you to know that being home... it won’t be like last time.”

“Yeah, I know.” Seto set aside his plate, realising it was finally time to have the talk he’d been putting off for a while now. 

“Listen Mokuba, I handled things badly with the Crystal Cloud project, I allowed… irrational feelings to drive me to a place I now know I never want to return to. It won’t happen again. When we return things will go back to normal and we can look to the future and find a new dream to strive for together.”

Mokuba nodded slowly, gaze fixed on the textbooks in front of him but not really seeing them at all. “I’d like to believe that, nii-sama,” he said, voice cautious. “But the thing is, as soon as you announced we would be going back to Japan early, you started overworking yourself again.” He looked up at Seto, eyes wide and full of sadness. “Looking at you now, you look just the same as you did back then, back when you… when you made yourself really sick.”

Guilt nawed at Seto’s insides. So quickly he had allowed himself to fall back on bad habits that he’d sworn to his brother he’d never return to, and for what? To stave of some unpleasant dreams? It was pathetic. “I’m not like I was, I promise,” he said, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “It’s just taking a lot of work to get us on track for the move. I’ve been gone a long time.”

“But what happens when the next project takes a lot of work too?” Or the next time you find a way to go back to see the other Yugi? What then, nii-sama? There always seems to be something worth pushing yourself to extremes for.” Mokuba was looking at Seto in a way he had never seen before. Like he pitied him. “I’m just not sure you have it in you to stop.”

“I’m not going back, Mokuba, I swear. I’m through with all of that, it’s over, I know it’s over.” Seto voice had a desperate edge to it now. He wanted Mokuba to believe him so badly. _He_ wanted to believe it. “We look to the future, never behind us, remember? I’ll be better, I can _be_ better.” Mokuba’s expression didn’t change, and Seto felt like he might go mad if he continued to look at him in that way. “You can keep track of my schedule from now on, how about that?” he blurted out. “You tell me how long to work for and I’ll do it.” 

Mokuba narrowed his eyes, not quite sure whether to believe his brother, perhaps rightfully so. Seto couldn’t believe what he’d just said either. “You’d let me… control your schedule? Really? You wouldn’t even let me control my own birthday party.”

“Well, maybe not _control_ ,” Seto quickly amended. “But you can tell me when to be home by each night so I don’t overwork myself. You can personally make sure I never let myself get sick again. We can start with next week and your soccer game.”

Mokuba’s face lit up. “Really, you’ll come?”

“I promise, work can wait for once.” Mokuba let out a cry of excitement and rushed around the island to fling himself at his brother in a hug. Seto pulled him even closer and let his world narrow down to just him and his brother. Nothing else mattered but this. He could endure anything if it meant he got to keep it.

“I’m sorry, nii-sama, I know you’re trying,” Mokuba said, voice slightly muffled from where he was pressed against Seto’s chest. “I just… I can’t see you like that again.”

“I know,” Seto whispered into his hair. “I won’t ever make you. I won’t let myself.”

When Seto returned to his room a while later, he gathered every last remaining pain medication, sleeping tablet and pep pill he had and flushed them away. If the cost of keeping Mokuba’s happiness and belief in him was some bad dreams, then it was a price he was more than willing to pay.

 

*

 

It came as no surprise to Seto that he once again found himself back in the throne room of the palace the following night. He’d left work at 5 o’clock on the dot as per Mokuba’s request and all but collapsed into bed at 9, body exhausted and mind accepting of what he would find when he slept. What did surprise him was that he wasn’t alone. 

Atem wasn’t the stiff, lifeless statue of the previous dream. He wasn’t even sitting as an imposing figure upon his rightful seat in the room. Instead he was lounging on the stairs that lead up to it. He looked like a tableau from a painting, with his regal attire, easy grace, and lazy, relaxed posture where he draped himself over the steps, propped up on an elbow. It didn’t lessen his command, perhaps it even added to it as now he looked more human, more the cocky, self-assured duelist Seto had always known. He eyed Seto curiously as though waiting to see what he’d do next, much like how a cat is wary of a master who has no command over it.

Seto’s stomach lurched at the sight of him, his chest constricting, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as the last time he’d been here. Now it was just like the pangs one feels when looking at an old photograph. 

“Of course my memory’s construct of you would make you just as perplexing as you were when you were alive,” Seto sneered at the figure, contempt not as fiery as it had been last time he’d seen the man, but it’s embers still glowed in his belly. “Just as arrogant and contrarian. Nothing was ever simple with you. You have a throne right there and yet you chose the floor.”

Seto wasn’t expecting a reaction but it still annoyed him when he didn’t receive one. Refusing to even look at the man any longer, he wandered into the centre of the room, keeping his back to Atem, the sound of his footsteps echoing around the large hall. 

It was astonishing just how detailed his dream world was. It wasn’t a vague construction of the palace, blurry in places where his memory had no data to fill, but an exact replica, down to each painstakingly painted hieroglyph carved into the walls. Seto would have to look into whether there were any effects from the Crystal Cloud network on his memory when he awoke.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say.” Seto’s voice joined his footfall as the only sounds bouncing off the alcoves of the chamber. “I said everything I wanted to last time, and you seem unable or unwilling to share anything. There’s nothing left between us to prolong this ridiculous charade.”

When a long stretch of silence followed, he caved and glanced back to the Atem of his memory. He looked right back at him and said nothing.

“I know why this is happening, you know,” Seto continued, more as a way to fill the silence than to actually communicate with the spectre. “Once I knew it wasn’t any of your occult bullshit, I figured it out. It’s simple psychology really. A reaction to the stress of returning home, not that I’m…” He trailed off, suddenly wary of revealing too much even if it was only to his own subconscious. “I’ve been away from Domino for a long time, the longest I’ve ever been and the manner in which I left would certainly have left a cloud. There will be much to do once I return, many questions to answer, messes to clean up. It would be daunting to anyone, even for me. You are merely a coping mechanism my brain has produced to distract me, you being my last point of hyperfixation. If you were real, I’d tell you not to let it go to your head, but as you aren’t, I won’t trouble myself.”

Seto gaze was drawn once again to Atem and was once again disappointed. It was foolish to expect anything at this point but still a part of him still expected a response. He so hated being ignored.

“All I need to do is to wait you out, you see,” he continued, annoyance and spite once again making him cruel. “Once I return home and gain back control of my city, I’ll forget all about you. You’re nothing special in the end, just a chemical imbalance in my head.” Almost without realising, he’d begun walking back towards the throne as he spoke. Atem watched his return, expression unchanging. “The last remains of your ghost that still haunt me will finally join you in your grave, and I’ll be free of you. I gained all I needed to lay you to rest when I journeyed to the netherworld. There’s nothing more you can give me.”

Seto had reached the bottom of the steps. Even with the higher ground Atem rested upon, Seto still loomed over him, casting a long shadow that blocked out all of his light. From this position, Atem’s elegant sprawl on the steps looked less the relaxing king, and more the conquest spread at the victor’s feet. Seto’s lips curled into a cruel smirk at the idea, the familiar sense of power pooling hot in his gut. He felt vindictive with it. “You’re just a dead man history has forgotten, Atem, and I too will forget you in the end.”

Atem stared up at him, eyes heavy and hungry, and smiled.

*

“I do find it interesting, Seto, that I had to find out that you are moving back to Japan several months early from your assistant calling to cancel your appointments, rather than from you yourself. Do you not think that such an important decision should have been discussed here before you took such a big step?” Dr Godward’s voice was as level and calm as it always was, with no hint of accusation in her tone, but still Seto couldn’t help but cross his arms over his chest defensively.

This was why he hated therapy, or rather, one of the many reasons why he hated it; he always had to explain himself. Nothing was ever just taken at his word. He had gone years without anyone daring to question his methods, now he had an hour a week dedicated to doing exactly that.

“I don’t see how it affects you. All you need to know is your services will not be required sooner than you expected. You were given more than enough warning to reschedule your appointments.” 

“My schedule isn’t the priority here, you are. I personally think you are rushing returning home. Your physical health shouldn’t be the only factor to consider.”

“And what else should I consider?” Seto drawlled. “The fact I’m the president of a company that I have been absent from for nearly a year? Because I’m considering that heavily.”

“Seto, you more than anyone are aware that your company is coping perfectly fine in your absence. And it is hardly as though you have zero contact with it. From what little you have told me of your work, I gather you are all but running it from here anyway. Would your physical presence in Domino make that much difference?”

Seto sneered at her. “That is why you are a therapist, and I am a CEO of the largest gaming company in the world. Maybe we should just stick to talking about things we understand.”

Godward smiled, and raised her hands in mock surrender. “Ok, I’ll concede to that. I shall stick to what I know and change the topic to _why_ you are rushing this return.”

“I’ve already told you that. And I’m not rushing it, I’m simply recovering faster than expected.”

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it, and I think that’s something that needs to be addressed before you even consider going back.”

Seto ground his teeth and glared at her. If he had his way, he never would have set foot in a therapist office in the first place, but after his doctors had insisted and Mokuba had persistently pleaded, he had finally agreed to see one only while in America. Godward was the eighth one he had seen. The first seven hadn’t made it through the first introductory meeting before Seto had walked out. They’d all been incompetent or patrosning, or some unbearable combination of the two. If Seto was forced to bear himself to another person, he refused for it to be someone he couldn’t even respect. 

So far Godward had lasted four months and Seto hated her for it.

“Do you want me to get weepy and say that I’m missing my home?” Seto asked snidely. “Fine then, I am. I dislike being in America, I dislike the people, the weather, the food. I just want to be home with my brother and have things return to normal.”

Godward subtly jotted some notes in the journal splayed on her lap. “Normal isn’t a word I would associate with you,” she said, eyes still on her journal. “Would you tell me what you mean by that?”

Seto’s frown deepened. “No.”

“Very well, maybe try telling me what you are most looking forward to once you are home.” 

“I have said that already, to have things return to normal,” Seto snapped, patience running thin. “This is pointless, I won’t keep repeating myself.” 

“Yes, alright, I’m sorry, Seto,” Godward said in her soothing manner. “I’m just trying to understand where your urgency is coming from.”

“You’ve implied you already have a theory. Instead of trying to trick me into saying it, why not just tell me your hypothesis.” 

“I’m not trying to trick you, Seto, and I’m certainly not trying to make your answers to fit any theory I may or may not have, I just want us both to understand your motivations.”

Seto raised his chin daringly, arms still firmly crossed. “Tell me why _you_ think I want to go back.”

“This is about what you think, not me,” Godward said without missing a beat, more than used to Seto’s defensive strategies by now. “I’d much rather hear what you have to say.”

“But I want to hear it. I’ll tell you if you’re right if you are.”

Godward removed her glasses to rub at her eyes, which made her look both older than her fifty or so years, and younger at the same time. She surveyed Seto in silence for a long moment. He so hated when she did that. There were only two other people who could ever read him as well as she could and only one of them was still alive. “This doesn’t always have to be a game, Seto. Sometimes you can just tell me how you’re feeling so I can help you.”

Seto remained silent.

“Very well,” she sighed and replaced her glasses. “Firstly, I think it’s important for me to remind you that although your circumstances are certainly… unique, you’re just feeling what so many others have before you. Grief for a parent, partner, friend or child is the same as the grief for this… this spirit who you have this bond with. Though it may feel unbearable now, there are ways of moving forward and managing it. The only difference for you is that through your technology and intellect, you are able to communicate with the person you’re grieving for, making it all the more difficult to move on.”

Seto’s jaw twitched and his knuckles clenched where they rested on his arm. They hardly ever discussed Atem, and if he was ever mentioned, Seto would never stay on the topic long. Even the initial lengthy explanation of Seto’s situation had been done via email.

“Seto, you are more than able to rebuild your contraption now you are recovered, and risk your life once again to gain a few more moments with him. You could spend the rest of your life in this cycle until it finally kills you, but I’m asking whether this is what you want your life to be? There’s a whole world right here that you’re ignoring, people that care about you, people who are intelligent and interesting enough for you to engage with. Don’t you think that might be more rewarding than clinging to the memory of a ghost?”

Godward’s stuffy office was silent for a moment as her words hung in the air between them, pregnant and charged. It was broken when Seto let out a low, mirthless laugh.

“You think that I’ve gone through all this, all these months of debasing recovery, of clawing back my health and sanity, just to do it all again? For what? To see _that man_ again?” It was almost amusing how wrong Godward was. After all, Seto no longer needed to go to the netherworld to see a vision of Atem.

“There’s no need to dismiss your attraction to him,” Godward said calmly. “He is, after all, the reason you’re here in the first place.”

“There is no _attraction_!” Seto shot back, all hint of humour gone from his voice. “And if I had known the cost of seeing him, I wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“Wouldn’t you?” 

Seto’s glare was murderous. “You have your answer. None of my actions are in any way swayed by him any more. He is nothing to me now.”

The scratch of Godward’s pen making hurried notes on her journal set Seto’s teeth on edge. “This is a very different attitude for you,” she said. “Before when we would speak of Atem, even briefly, you were hardly forthcoming, but there wasn’t all this anger. Has something happened to spark it?”

The mention of Atem’s name was the final straw. Seto abruptly stood, almost shaking with rage. “You’re the one making me angry!” he all but yelled. “You’re the one reading into things that aren’t there. You’re the one making this all about _him_ , not me.”

“Seto, I’m sorry, please sit-”

“I don’t understand why everyone thinks that I still have a problem! Why is everyone so concerned about me returning home? I’m fine, more than fine, I’ve moved on. I don’t need anything else from him. I just need to get back to Domino and everything will go back to normal.” 

“Seto, your problems won’t just go away because you move location,” Godward said, genuine concern colouring her usually neutral voice. “Please let us talk about this. What has happened to upset you?”

“This session is over. I’m cancelling the rest of my appointments, I won’t have time while preparing for the move.” Seto left the room with Godward calling out after him.

 

*

It was almost an enjoyable break from the real world when Seto opened his eyes in his dream. Reality seemed so complicated at the moment that a deviation from it, no matter in what capacity, was refreshing. 

This time Seto found himself in a long, vast corridor with an impossibly high ceiling. It may have been night time, but it was impossible to tell as there were no windows in the room. Instead, the sole light source came from torches that created long, eerie shadows stretching over the towering walls. Seto had no memory of ever being in the room either in the memory world or the netherworld. It was curious that his mind would supply a brand new location for him to wander.

Having little interest in going in search for an Atem who would ignore him, he instead set his mind to examining the dream world to gain some better insight into how his mind was producing such content. The detail in the throne room could be explained by him being there previously, but how could he explain it for a location he had never been? 

On closer inspection it was clear that it wasn’t just shadows that covered the walls but hieroglyphics and large paintings stretched over them too. The one closest to him depicted an imposing looking man dressed in white headdress, impossibly large in scale. Seto walked on further and saw similar scenes of impressive looking men among scenes of power and grandeur. These were undoubtedly the pharaohs of old, immortalized in stone to live as legends. Seto had to hand it to the egyptians, they certainly knew how to ensure a legacy. 

He wandered further down the corridor, admiring the paintings with mild interest until one gave him pause. It wasn’t the man with the greying beard in the painting that had caught his attention, but what else it showed. The man was surrounded by the millennium items, with the puzzle lying comfortably against his chest. It was odd seeing anyone else wearing it, almost as if it became a foreign object as soon as it wasn’t in… his hands.

Seto stared at the painting for a moment longer before he tore his eyes away and walked with almost hesitant steps to the next, knowing what he would find there. The familiar face looming above him sent an unpleasant jolt in his stomach even though he knew it was coming. For anyone else the stern, commanding look on the painting would have been artistic licence, an embellishment to boost a dead king’s ego, but on Atem, it was perfectly suited. Seto had never known a person to be so captivating, so charismatic, so unflinchingly regal even before they had any idea they were royalty.

Surrounding the impression of Atem were the three gods, ferocious and formidable even in the slightly crude artstyle. Atem would have been impressive even without them by his side, but with them, he was magnificent. 

“It does you justice,” Seto said aloud, knowing without turning that he was no longer alone in the chamber. Atem stepped into place beside him, his gaze also fixed on the wall painting in front of them. Seto didn’t have it in him to be angry at this Atem anymore. With the moving date set, his dreams were limited now anyway. “Though they have been generous with your size,” Seto added with a smirk. “You may tower over buildings here, but _I_ know you’re pushing 5’4.”

Atem turned to him with a raised eyebrow, a smile playing over his lips. It was disarming to have the projection continue to show emotion but Seto brushed it off. Very little could shock him at this point.

Not feeling like engaging in yet another one sided conversation with Atem, especially when his own mind was providing such interesting entertainment, Seto continued onwards. He stopped again when he reached the next painting, his stomach giving another jolt. Apparently he was still able to be surprised. 

His own profile loomed over him, headdress in place, millennium rod in hand.

“I remember… In the memory world, you asked him to succeed you,” Seto said absently. “Somehow I’d forgotten, or at least, I thought I did. It didn’t seem important at the time…” Seto trailed off, attention caught up in examining the rest of the piece.

Pharaoh Seto’s grandness may have rivalled Atem’s but the composition was far less exciting. Seto was rather disappointed that his Blue Eyes didn’t make an appearance, but the theme of the painting was far more sober and solemn than the spectacle of Atem’s. The space around the main figure was taken up with depictions of buildings being constructed and crowds being fed.

“I see he was left to clean up after your mess.” Seto shook his head, slightly amused. “Tch, how like you to only stick around for the excitement, then leave for the clean-up.”

He didn’t turn to see Atem’s reaction, having no interest in trying to decipher what little he could from his expression alone.

“I wonder how much longer he lived after you were gone. It must have been some time to have done all this.” Seto reached out to touch his doppelganger hand, feeling a sudden longing to know more. He’d never had any interest in the man before now, he hadn’t allowed himself to, but now Seto couldn’t help but pity him. “It seems we were both fated to lose you... if you believe in such things.” Seto let his hand drop. He wondered how the man had coped with the absence Atem had left in his life, whether it had been as devastating for him as it had for Seto. 

He turned to look at Atem, feeling an irrational need just to see him. Atem was staring up at the painting, eyes slightly wistful. Seto frowned. “He’s with you now, isn’t he?” Seto asked, not expecting a reply. “Your priest. You’re both together in the netherworld. What a touching reunion that must have been.” 

Seto’s fleeting interest in the man was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He was suddenly sick of everything, sick of the past, of these dreams, of Atem, and of the man who could so easily replace him. 

“History forgot you both so easily,” he said, turning his back on Atem and the painting of the dead man. “That is a mistake I will not be making. The world will never forget my name, I won’t allow it.”

*

The only problem Seto usually had with time was that there wasn’t enough of it. There was always work that needed to be done and simply not enough hours in the day to do it all. But now his work hours had been cut down considerably due to Mokuba’s scheduling, he had a new problem; how to fill all that free time.

Seto loathed being idle, but lately he hated it all the more as when his mind wasn’t filled with a steady stream of work, his thoughts would inevitably return Atem. And that simply wouldn’t do anymore.

In the effort of keeping himself as busy as possible, he had been occupying most evenings over the last week in the best way he could think of, spending time with his brother.

“I can’t remember the last time we came down to the beach, nii-sama,” Mokuba said happily around a mouthful of the ice cream he was making his way through.

“Neither can I,” Seto said with a small smile, brushing some of Mokuba’s hair out his face to spare at least some of it from getting in his desert. “Though we might have to actually go down on the sand for it count as going to the beach.”

“And ruin my new sneakers?” Mokuba said in mock outrage, wiggling his trainer clad feet out in front of him. “I don’t think so!”

The pier was almost deserted, save for the discrete security detail that hung back behind the brothers. Though it was hardly accidental, Seto had made his driver search for a good half hour to ensure they found the least populated spot. 

Seto didn’t know why he’d chosen to come down here that particular evening. There was still a lingering resentment towards events in his dream that were simply products of his subconscious, and as illogical as it seemed, it was as though he was gaining back some control by coming down here and reclaiming the sun and sand. 

However ludicrous his intentions, now he was here, there was an undeniable serenity that came from looking out at scene before them. The dimming sunlight was a glowing red, turning the sky and glittering sea below it a mottled bruise of purples and yellows. It was easy to just switch off here on the worn little bench they’d found, half listening to Mokuba’s running commentary about every little thing that happened to him throughout his day, letting all other thoughts that usually crowded his mind slip away.

“We never really did stuff like this at all in Domino, did we?” Seto turned away from the disappearing sun to look at his brother. 

“I wasn’t very… capable of prioritising back then,” he said stiltedly. “I didn’t have a good perspective on things. I do now.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mokuba toed the dirt in front of him, the rest of his melting ice-cream left half forgotten as it ran down his fingers.

“Is there something on your mind?” Seto asked almost reluctantly.

“Huh, no… Well, a little.” Seto pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and begun mopping up the mess on Mokuba’s sticky fingers. He wished, not for the first time, that he was better at this part of raising his brother. Discussing the complexity of human feelings had never been his strong suit. 

“You know I’m always here to listen if you need me.”

“Yeah, I know nii-sama. It’s just...” Mokuba took a deep breath, as though steeling himself for something, then blurted out, “I don’t want to return to the company when we get back.” Seto paused where he was still cleaning Mokuba’s fingers to stare at him.

“You don’t… want to go back to KaibaCorp?” Mokuba was shifting in his seat, eyes pointedly averted from Seto’s searching ones. “Why not?”

"Don't be mad, I just.... things have been good lately, haven't they? Better than they have been in a while. I like being around kids my own age, I like having friends, I like hanging with you at the end of the day and it not being about work. I'm top of my class, the soccer team and capsule monsters club. I want that in Domino too." Mokuba glanced at him sheepishly. "I guess what I'm really saying is, I just want to be a kid again."

Seto fiddled with the handkerchief as Mokuba spoke, folding it and unfolding it in his hands as he tried to remain calm even while his chest constricted tighter and tighter. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Mokuba half shrugged, still scuffing his trainers in the dry dirt. "I didn't want to disappoint you. You always want us to aim for the best we can be and you kinda seemed like you thought school was a waste of time for me. I guess I didn’t want you to be mad that I actually wanted it."

"I would never-" Seto stopped himself and waited until he was sure his voice would come out more level. "You are always my priority, Mokuba. I'm sorry if I haven't conveyed that to you. Of course you can attend any school you wish. I will have Isono assemble a list of the best candidates for you to choose from. Domino High is certainly out of the question."

Mokuba was still avoiding his gaze, face downcast. "I really thought I could be like you, be strong and lead the company as soon as possible, but I'm not."

Seto caught Mokuba by his shoulder and turned him so he was forced to face him. "You are strong, Mokuba. Strong in all the ways that count. I fought for this life for us so you wouldn't be forced into one you hated, and if this is what you truly want, you have to fight for it too. I have always taught you to never let anything stand in the way of you paving your own future, even if this time that means me. You will never limit yourself for anyone, you hear me. KaibaCorp was my dream, now it's time for you to find your own."

The tears that Mokuba had been holding back were now falling freely down his cheeks. “I will, nii-sama, I’ll fight for my own dream, I promise.”

The pride Seto felt as he pulled his brother into a hug was tinge slightly with a selfish, small voice in the back of his head. It whispered to him that, yet again, he was losing something precious to him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

 

*

“Aren’t you as sick of this as I am?” Seto asked the spectre in a dull voice as it silently took a seat next to him. They were sat precariously on the battlements of the palace, legs dangling over the side of the high walls, the town spread out before them. It would have been an impressive sight if Seto hadn’t once looked down upon the Earth as it’s whole from a much higher vantage point. “But I suppose you don’t feel anything, do you? How nice that must be.”

Seto had always liked heights. He enjoyed the feeling of power they gave him to look down at those below him, to see just how small they were to him. Sitting high above the town now, he had the odd and novel compulsion to jump just to see what would happen. Would he feel the impact when he hit the sand? Would it wake him up? Would this vision of Atem try and stop him? The real Atem would, Seto was sure of that, but then again, he had thought he’d known the man when he’d intentionally recreated him before and had been mistaken then.

“You’re worse than the solid vision version of Atem I made, do you know that?” Seto said, the irrational need to be cruel resurfacing again. “At least it spoke, at least there was a satisfaction in seeing the craftsmanship of it. I spent so long building it, and even then it’s imperfections were nauseating. You’re just…” he struggled to find the words for a moment, “a mockery of it. As though you’re not only a reminder of him, but of my failure.”

Atem’s expression was filled with contemptible empathy as he looked at him. All it did was annoy Seto.

“What, no smirk this time? Or has your only trick grown stale even for you?” Atem rolled his eyes and shook his head, turning his attention away from Seto to look out over his kingdom below. The silence that fell between them couldn’t be described at comfortable, but it felt natural. It was an almost surreal reminder of what it had been like to be in the real Atem’s company. How comfortable Seto had felt with him by the end. How close he had been to opening himself up to the possibility of more than just rivalry with him. It was also a bleak reminder that there was no one else like him for Seto to wake up to. No one he felt this at ease with to just sit and say nothing. Real or fake, this Atem was his only friend in the world.

“Mokuba’s leaving KaibaCorp,” Seto said into the silence. Atem turned quickly back to him, expression shocked but curious. Seto found he couldn’t look at him if he wanted to continue. “He says he just wants to go to school then he’ll come back when he graduates but I know he won’t. He doesn’t feel it the same way I do, it was always my creation, not his. He was only ever there for me.” Saying the words felt like carving into himself, flaying himself open in the most horrific way, but there was a certain satisfaction in it. Like pulling out a thorn that had been stuck in his side for far too long. “I want him to be happy, more than anything I want that, but I can’t help but feel this… this resentment. I just want him close all the time, I can’t let him realise he doesn’t need me anymore. He’s the last thing I have, the only person I have. If I lose him… I don’t know what I’ll do.” Seto had never spoken like this to anyone, certainly not in his therapy sessions, not even to himself in the solitude of his own mind. It was an odd feeling, to open up like this but the only person listening wasn’t real, so there was no harm in it.

“I should have seen this coming,” Seto continued, the words coming easier now he’d started. “I should have known from the moment he first asked to go to school that it was the start of our paths diverging. I was Mokuba’s age when I put the plans in motion to take over from Gozaburo after all. It’s just in our nature to look beyond what life has given us and demand more.” Silence fell again as Seto finished. He didn’t know why he’d said those things as he certainly would never have said them to the real Atem. The shame and humiliation he was so sure would follow such an outburst didn’t come. All he was left with was an empty feeling, like he’d unburdened too much and now there was nothing left to feel. 

A hand found his own and squeezed it tightly. Seto startled at the touch and looked down to see Atem’s small, ring clad hand in his own. It felt just as real and solid as it had in his finally meeting with the real Atem, when he had held his hand in the palace courtyard and said goodbye. He wanted to be angry that this projection could ever think he could recreate the moment they had shared but he just couldn’t bring himself to.

“Why can’t you be real?” Seto said, voice barely a whisper, and squeezed back.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thorlokid)


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